


Even if I tried, even if I wanted to.

by everydaytomholland



Series: Pangs [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Forced Sedation, Gay Peter Parker, Gen, Homeless Peter Parker, Homophobia, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Near Drowning, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Panic Attacks, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 11:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydaytomholland/pseuds/everydaytomholland
Summary: PRE ENDGAME. NO SPOILERS.Peter Parker had always known that he was gay. What he didn't know was just how much coming out would change his life; for better and for worse.





	Even if I tried, even if I wanted to.

**Author's Note:**

> Amazing how "just a little one shot" turns into nearly 14k words (seriously, it was 29 pages long)... This was like 99% written before I saw Endgame and contains no spoilers. Please refrain from posting any spoilers in the comments, no matter how tempting it might be - I'm feeling all the feels too.
> 
> You can find me on twitter @everydaytomhol1 - I rewatched all the MCU movies (except Captain Marvel) in the lead up to endgame and live-tweeted my reactions so if you want to read those they're pinned to my profile.
> 
> Title for this fic comes from 'Same Love' by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis (feat. Mary Lambert)
> 
> Enjoy! xx

Peter had never really questioned his sexuality. From the time he was old enough to understand what marriage was, and why adults did it, he knew it was something he wanted to do with a boy. When he was still young, he worked out that this wasn’t exactly ‘normal’, for boys to marry boys, so he didn’t tell anyone. There was no shame, at least not yet, he just didn’t want to stand out.

As he got older, he learned that there was a word for what this is; gay. He also learned that a lot of people thought that being gay was a bad thing, he didn’t understand why, but he learned to hide it from people, even if it made him sad to keep such a big secret; it was safer that way.

The first time he came out to someone, it was a complete accident. He and Ned were having a sleepover one night in 7th grade and they were marathoning all of the Harry Potter movies. They were tiredly making their way through Goblet of Fire when Ned mentioned that he had a massive crush on Emma Watson. Before he realised what was happening, he let slip that he felt the same way about Daniel Radcliffe. 

 

Then he froze.

 

It was too late. He couldn’t take the words back. He hoped briefly that Ned hadn’t been listening, but Parker luck was never that fortunate. 

 

“Yeah man. I mean dudes aren’t my thing, but I can totally see the appeal.” Ned responded. Peter felt his eyes filling up with tears.    
“A-and it doesn’t bother you? That dudes are my thing?” Peter asked.   
“Peter,” Ned said, seriously, “you’re my brother, of course I don’t care. I love you, man.” He gave his best friend a one-armed hug, “Besides, it means less competition for me.” The last comment sent the boys into fits of giggles.

 

Now that someone else knew his secret, Peter felt like a massive weight had been lifted off his chest. He still wanted to tell May and Ben at some point (and was terrified to do so) but now that Ned knew and he could confide in his friend, he wasn’t in any rush.

 

. . . . .

 

Near the end of 8th grade, his class had gone on a field trip to Oscorp and somehow Peter had ended up being bitten by a genetically modified spider. After spending a week being bedridden with what felt like a bad flu, he realised that he’d developed super powers. Soon after, Spider-Man was born.

 

Soon it was summer break and Peter was having the time of his life. May and Ben both worked pretty much full time so he had a lot of time being left to his own devices. Peter went out as Spider-Man almost everyday that summer. And snuck out at least a few nights a week too. Right before school had broken up he’d finally worked out a formula that worked to make his own webs. At first he’d been breaking into schools to make up more of the formula, but he felt too guilty and so one time, after he’d saved a woman from being mugged, he’d accepted the money she offered and bought the supplies himself, keeping them safe under his bed. 

 

The day that same sex marriage was legalised, he was already out on patrol. He hadn’t even realised that anything important was happening that day, but then he was sitting on a rooftop, just watching the streets, when he heard people in one of the apartments below talking about it. He jumped off the roof and started swinging. Before he even realised where he was going, he found himself at the Stonewall Inn where massive celebrations were ongoing. He felt guilty, he knew May would have a conniption if she knew how far away he was from their neighbourhood, but in that moment he was Spider-Man, and Spider-Man couldn’t bring himself to care, instead getting swept up in the celebrations. 

 

Peter was home before curfew and May and Ben were none the wiser.

 

The next day, Buzzfeed posted an article with photos from the celebration, Spider-Man was prominent in many of them. The title was “NYC-based vigilante Spider-Man is the LGBTQ+ ally we never knew we needed.” Peter couldn’t help but smirk. Two days later, another article appeared about the note left on the doors of Buzzfeed’s Manhattan office: ‘I’m no ally. I put the G in LGBTQ+. Love from, your friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man.’

 

As the summer wore on, Peter knew he couldn’t go much longer without coming out to at least his aunt and uncle. He came close so many times, but he never could seem to muster up enough courage do it, always seeming to come up with an excuse not to at the last minute.

 

Soon enough, he found himself back at school. He’d heard that it was a big jump from 8th to 9th grade, but Peter didn’t find it that hard, even at a super smart school like Midtown Tech. He had kind of hoped he would make more friends, especially now that he looked like much less of a dweeb post spider bite, but no such luck. Still, with a friend as good as Ned, he didn’t really need anyone else. 

 

He found it hard to cut back on Spider-Man duties now that he had school, so he compromised by not taking on any extra-curricular activities, despite Ned begging him (and him very much wanting to) to join him in the academic decathlon team. At one point Ned had asked him what he was always doing after school, especially since he knew that Peter’s guardians had no idea where he was. So Peter made up some story about getting an internship at Stark Industries, doing filing and coffee runs for Pepper Potts (and Tony Stark when he was around), but that Ben wasn’t a fan of Iron Man so he hadn’t told them. Peter felt incredibly stupid as he said it, he didn’t even know if SI had an intern program, but thankfully his friend was a little bit gullible and didn’t question him.

 

And so Peter developed a new routine that kind of worked for him. But of course, Parker Luck had to rear its ugly head again, and things fell apart shortly after Christmas. 

 

. . . . .

 

He’d had a bad day at school. He’d had a long night of patrolling the night before and had gotten home and fallen asleep almost straight away. He’d forgotten to study for his Spanish quiz the next morning and was almost certain that he’d subsequently tanked it. That alone had put him in a bad mood for the day. And then Flash had started in on him. 

 

He didn’t know what he’d done to piss Flash off this time, not that Flash ever needed an excuse to be a dick to Peter, but he was being particularly mean today. Things came to a head when Flash called him the f word. It wasn’t like Flash, or anyone other than Ned, actually knew Peter’s sexuality, but the slur set him off. He punched Flash. Not too hard, he held back his enhanced strength as much as possible, but enough for the bully’s nose to bleed and for Peter to get sent to the Principal’s office. 

 

He was glad that May and Ben were both working, he wasn’t sent home early or anything either, but he knew that the drama hadn’t ended there. As he walked home that night, choosing for once to forgo patrol, he felt a sense of foreboding about the inevitable confrontation.

It didn’t go the way he expected it to.

 

“Pete? Why did I get a voice message from your Principal saying you got in a fight at school today?” May asked him over dinner. He gulped before responding.   
“Because I, sorta punched Flash Thompson.” he admitted.    
“Peter!” Ben admonished him.

“What did he do?” May asked, “It’s not like you to do something like this unprovoked.”   
“He called me a- a fag.” he avoided their gaze.

“Well why would that bother you? He’s called you way worse names and you’ve never punched him before.” Peter took a deep breath before responding.

“Because I- I’m gay.”

 

Peter knew that, true to her Italian roots, May was Catholic. But they almost never went to church when he was growing up, and so he underestimated just how Catholic she was. He never expected her to react like this. After his confession, she’d gone silent for several uncomfortable minutes, sharing long looks with Ben.

 

“Sweetie, you’re not gay, you’re just confused.” Peter was stunned.    
“I’m not confused. I’m gay. I’ve known I was gay since I was like 4.” Her eyes went cold and dark.

“Well then you need to leave. I can’t have a sinner living under my roof.” Peter felt numb, even in his wildest fears he didn’t imagine this reaction. He looked to his uncle desperately. The man had the slightest hint of conflict in his eyes which he quickly blinked away. 

“You heard her, Peter. You can- uh, you can pack a bag, but then you gotta go.”

 

10 minutes later, Peter found himself on the sidewalk. Backpack stuffed full with some, but not all, of his most prized possessions, and absolutely zero idea where to go next. 

 

He wished he could call Ned, but it’s not like the boy could help him anyway, his family was even poorer than May and Ben, and they had more mouths to feed. When he got a message from Ned the next day, asking why he wasn’t at school, he couldn’t bring himself to respond - there were too many questions he couldn’t answer. He clung to every message he received though, at least until his phone went dead. 

 

. . . . .

 

If Peter had known how they would react to him coming out, he would’ve at least picked a different time of year. A week after it happened, winter took a turn for the worst and a deep chill seemed to settle permanently into his bones; probably not helped by the fact that he was barely eating. 

 

Peter hadn’t been able to establish a permanent spot to hide away, so he spend most of his days wondering - he occasionally went out as Spider-Man, but quickly learned he was better off conserving his energy. He was able to get about one meal a day from a homeless shelter, but he’d only been able to stay in one once, with their preference being towards women and children younger than him. Peter didn’t complain, he knew there were people more deserving of the shelter than him. 

 

Almost 3 weeks into the seemingly endless cold snap, Peter knew he needed to change something quick because his situation was getting dire. He’d spent the day wandering around Flushing, almost delirious from the cold. He’d stopped shivering hours ago, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that wasn’t good, but he couldn’t hold onto the thought long enough to do anything; he was just glad there was almost no one on the streets to see how much he was struggling. Next thing he knew, he was on his knees, he was struggling to breathe from the cold and could barely move. Then he pitched forward, landing face down in the snow. He absentmindedly thought that it hurt more than it should’ve. He thought he heard a voice talking to him but passed out before he could check.

 

When Peter came to, the warmth he felt was so foreign to him that he was sure he must’ve died and gone to heaven. On second thought, he was too sore for that to be the case. His entire body felt uncomfortable and achy, he tried moving but immediately felt several hands holding him down.

“How the hell is this kid conscious?”   
“He should be dead!” Peter was confused and overwhelmed by all the voices.

“Sweetheart,” someone was talking directly to him, “can you tell me your name?” Peter tried but speaking was really hard in that moment, he let out a groan. “That’s okay, can you squeeze my hand?” he felt her hands in his, it took a lot of effort but he managed a gentle squeeze. Someone else pushed open his eyelids and shone a light in his eyes; he turned his head away from it.

“He’s somewhat responsive to light, definite concussion. I’m also worried about his O2 and body temp, we need to warm him up.” Peter was sure they kept talking to him, but he passed out again. 

 

When he woke up again he was feeling a lot better. He looked around and saw that he was in a ward at a hospital; he had no idea how he got there. He sat up slowly, definitely feeling better than last time, though now he was antsy. Now that he was homeless, he didn’t have insurance, he couldn’t afford hospital care. He looked at the bracelet they’d put on his wrist: “DOE, John.” Okay, they had no idea who he was, he could work with this. He pressed the nurse call button and quickly talked his way into getting a meal. Parts of his roast meal were barely edible, but he didn’t care, it was the first proper meal he’d had in ages. He pretended to go to sleep straight after. When he woke again, it was dinner time. As he ate, he heard some of the nurses talking about how they’d called CPS for him, and he knew it was time for him to make his move. When the nurses weren’t looking, he gathered up his things and snuck into the bathroom. He changed from the hospital gown to his clothes, and walked right out the doors before they could stop him. 

 

After that, Peter got more careful. He eventually found a safe space to store his things; in an abandoned factory that was only accessible from the upstairs windows so he didn’t have to worry about his things being stolen. He also developed a routine, scared of getting caught out by the cold again, he essentially made himself nocturnal since it was much colder at night, so if he kept moving at night time he’d stay warm, then he could sleep during the day when the cold wasn’t as dangerous. It was because of his new sleeping pattern that he was able to go out as Spider-Man again. He’d befriended the sous chef at a nearby restaurant (as Spider-Man) who slipped him a generous helping of leftovers each night he was working. Apparently he’d saved the man’s young sister several months back and the man felt indebted to him; Peter felt a little guilty about accepting the charity but he wasn’t in a position to say no.

 

Sometimes, during the day he’d sleep on the school roof. He’d listen to the various classes and tried to listen out for his best friend. It hurt that he couldn’t reach out to Ned, but it helped a lot just being near him.

 

By the time May rolled around, Peter had settled in nicely to his new life. He’d learned to ignore the constant ache of hunger, and had found the perfect balance of eating just enough to keep up his energy. It was paying off too, from what he’d seen in stolen newspapers and peeks through windows of the news, Queens had truly embraced Spider-Man as their hero.

 

. . . . .

 

One evening, he was helping a lady pick up her things after preventing her from being mugged, when he heard a gun go off nearby.   
“Sorry ma’am, duty calls.” She thanked him as he swung away.

When he got to the scene, he saw a man, presumably the gunman, running away from him, and another man fall to the ground clutching his chest. He ran to help the victim. The man was bleeding heavily from his chest wound. It was probably the worst gunshot wound Peter had seen in his entire time as Spider-Man and he didn’t think the guy had a high chance of survival, but he had to try. He shoved his web shooters in his pockets and pressed his hands to the gushing wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay sir, I’m right here, help is on its- Ben?” The dying man wasn’t some random stranger, it was his uncle. 

 

“Ben! Ben, I’m right here, you’ve gotta hold on.” The man flicked his hazy eyes over to Peter at the sound of his own name, he recognised the boys voice. He tried to speak but choked on the blood that had made its way into his mouth and throat.   
“It’s okay Ben, it’s me, I’m okay. I need you to hold on, for May, yeah? We can’t leave May alone.” Ben raised one of his hands and cupped Peter’s cheek - Peter was glad his uncle couldn’t see him crying behind the mask. Peter held his uncle’s hand to his cheek and kept uttering reassurances that help would be there soon, even though they both knew it was helpless. Moments later, Peter heard his heart stop beating before his hand went slack and his breathing stopped. 

 

Peter got up shakily, asking one of the people in the small crowd that had gathered to stay with the body until police arrived, before swinging away before anyone could stop him.

 

Peter went to the funeral. 

 

He’d kept an eye out for the funeral notice, and when the day came he snuck in hours before the service and hid in a dark corner of the roof. He thinks May might’ve spotted him at one point, but he was in his suit and since all the press coverage had been painting him in a nice light for staying with the dying man, he guessed she must’ve decided it wasn’t worth saying anything. 

 

He’d deny it if anyone asked, but Ben’s death hit him hard. Even though he technically couldn’t have stopped it, he couldn’t help but blame himself. And so Spider-Man went harder. He started eating and sleeping less in favour of doing more patrolling. He’d had a couple of dizzy spells here and there, but it wasn’t until he fainted twice in as many days that he knew he needed to reign himself in again.

 

After Ben died, he’d started checking in on Ned more, just to make sure he was okay. He still kept his distance as much as possible, but the handful of times Ned had spotted him, he waved, not wanting to speak to him and risk revealing himself. By the looks of it Ned had befriended that girl Michelle from decathlon and he was glad that Ned wasn’t alone anymore. Michelle had scared him a little when they were at school together, but if Ned liked her she was okay in Peter’s book.

 

Before all this happened, Peter used to imagine what his life would be like if he were Spider-Man. He envisioned patrolling with Black Widow, quipping with the Falcon, sparring Captain America, and upgrading their tech with Tony Stark - he was a much bigger fan of Tony Stark than of Iron Man - but the reality was very different. He wasn’t even sure if there was an Avengers team to join anymore. 

 

. . . . .

 

He may have been living on the streets, but Peter was finding it surprisingly easy to keep up to date with Avengers news. He’d heard all about the incident in Lagos and that the UN wanted to bring in some sort of sanctions against superheroes which, if he was honest, made him more than a little nervous. But now he didn’t even know if that was happening, just yesterday there’d been a bombing at the United Nations in Vienna, the Wakandan King had been killed and the whole thing seemed to be a big mess. 

 

In the early hours of that evening, Peter was lying on the top of a random building, soaking up the last of the day’s sun and having a rest. He had just talked himself into getting up and finding something to eat before resuming patrol, when he heard the sound of propulsors coming towards him. Before he’d even had the chance to prepare himself, Iron Man himself was landing on the roof, just a few feet away. Peter scrambled to his feet, but before he could say anything, Tony Stark was stepping out of the suit; looking slightly worse for wear with a black eye.

 

“Hi Spider-Man, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Peter was gobsmacked, but glad his mask was hiding his expression.   
“I- Looking for me? What do you want with me, Mr Stark?” Tony almost laughed at how earnest he was.

“Call me Tony, kid. I was hoping to recruit you for a mission.” Peter was completely floored. 

“A-a mission? Like, with the Avengers?” The man grimaced slightly at the question.   
“Not exactly. Details are need to know, so I’m gonna need an answer from you before I tell you what’s happening. What do you say kid, wanna come to Germany?” Peter was about to answer with an enthusiastic yes, but he hesitated for just a moment.

“If I go, I have one condition.” Tony quirked his eyebrow questioningly, ready to humour the kid, “I want to keep my identity a secret. The mask stays on.” 

Tony contemplated the kid in front of him for a moment before sticking out his hand, ”Deal.”

 

Tony Stark wasn’t an idiot. He’d been aware of Spider-Man more or less since the day he first stepped on the scene, but had considered him too small scale to bother properly investigating. Then when he knew he wanted to recruit him, he only really had time to get a suit together, not bothering to find out much information about the vigilante. Before meeting him, he’d worked out that the kid was young, his guess was around 18-20, but didn’t worry too much about that, he’d be able to get that information from the suit later down the line. He had planned on getting a glimpse at his face and a name if he could, but he was going to respect his wishes. At least, for now.

 

The next morning, Peter found himself suited up, waiting in the lobby of Stark Tower, waiting for Happy Hogan and wondering just how the hell he’d gotten into this situation. Sitting on the plane with Happy was awkward to say the least. He’d almost slipped up when Happy asked him about school and he’d mentioned that he liked science. He quickly managed to cover it up, saying that he was a freshman at Columbia and hadn’t declared a major yet; that seemed to satisfy the man at least.

 

The last thing he’d expected when showing up in Germany was to be handed a custom-made suit, made by Tony Stark himself. Well, one of the last things. Fighting against a bunch of the Avengers WAS a bit of shock. He’d really enjoyed the fight. He may have briefly blacked out when he got knocked to the ground by the giant guy, but otherwise he was pleasantly surprised to find that he held his own against the adults he was fighting. 

 

The surprises didn’t stop when they left Germany. Before letting him leave Stark Tower again, Mr Stark told him to get rid of his old suit and keep the new one.    
“You’re letting me keep the suit?” Peter was shocked.   
“Well I didn’t make it for Happy, and I’m certainly not going to wear it.” The man responded with a smirk.

“I-. Wow. Thank you, Mr Stark.” That was about as speechless as Peter was capable of being. 

“I have a couple of conditions kid.” Peter nodded. “First, you’re not an official Avenger or anything, but can I count on you to come when I call you to help with a mission?” The boy nodded again. “Good. Now, I’m not giving you my number, mostly coz I don’t want someone using you to get to me, but I also get the sense that you prefer to work alone.” Peter couldn’t help but deflate a tiny bit.   
“Yeah, uh, that’s me. One man band.”   
“Right. But you should know that if you get into trouble or get hurt, the suit has protocols that can contact me, so even if I’m not around, I got your back.” Peter smiled underneath the mask. “If anyone asks, the suit was an anonymous gift. With the government going crazy about the accords, I can’t have them coming after both of us so don’t tell anyone where you got the suit. Just, keep a low profile, be a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.”

“Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man?” Peter repeated, “Yeah, I can do that.”

 

. . . . .

 

Peter hadn’t realised how much the old suit had been holding him back. For starters, the sensation of swinging through the air was so much cooler now that he didn’t have the wind resistance from the baggy clothes. The web shooters were much faster too, which came in handy since he seemed to fall of of buildings semi regularly. He also felt like people took him more seriously in the new suit. Maybe that was in his head, but he definitely felt more professional wearing it.   

 

The first couple of weeks, Peter kept hoping to hear from Mr Stark. He was disappointed that he never did, but also annoyed at himself for getting his hopes up in the first place. Then one afternoon he read in an abandoned newspaper that the man had been spotted in Washington DC for negotiations with Agent Ross to pardon Captain America, as well and in and out of the UN to try and make adjustments to the accords to make them easier to work with.   

 

Peter felt bad about being mad at Mr Stark. When he thought about it realistically, the man was the owner of a multi-billion dollar company, and one of the most recognisable heroes on the planet - that’d be intense even when he wasn’t dealing with the UN and the US government. Now he thought about it, he also didn’t think it was actually that common for Iron Man to get missions that were big enough to need lots of extra help, and he’d probably call the actual avengers (the ones that were left, anyway) before he called for a relative stranger like Spider-Man.

 

Once Peter had thoroughly gotten a reality check about his situation, he went back to his normal routine; he supposed if Mr Stark ever needed him, he’d get in touch. Everything went well for the next month and a half. Then he burst in on an ATM robbery.

 

He’d been going through a bit of a “dry spell” where the biggest crime he was dealing with was petty theft, and quite frankly he was getting bored. This was a pretty drastic escalation though. He’d been swinging around like normal, when he came across what looked like a run of the mill atm robbery. Except when he went in to stop it, they had some kind of souped up weapons that totally destroyed the atm, and the store across the street. His heart sank as he realised that the store was Mr Delmar’s deli; he hadn’t even realised how close he was to his old home. 

 

After he helped get Mr Delmar out of the burning store, he regretted for the first time not being more open with Mr Stark - these alien weapons were clearly the sort of thing he needed to be aware of and yet Peter had no way to contact the man. He spent the next couple of hours in a panicked haze, feeling guilty for not doing more, and eventually found himself sitting on a ledge near Ned’s bedroom, taking comfort out of being near his friend, even if he couldn’t actually talk to him. 

 

While he sat sitting there, he heard Ned talking to his Mom about a party he was going to the following night - it felt like forever since Peter had been to any sort of party, so he decided then and there that even though he couldn’t actually join in, he was going to go to this party.

 

That was where he found himself 24 hours later; sitting on the roof next to Liz Allan’s house watching his former friends and classmates have a great time. He couldn’t help but be sad at the things he was missing out on. He’d only spotted Ned and Michelle a couple of times, they weren’t spending much time in the sunroom that Peter could see into. He was starting to get too sad, and decided he was gonna head back to the city to spend his night patrolling instead. Except, when he stood to leave, he heard, then saw, an explosion in the distance. Knowing he couldn’t just leave something like that alone, he ran to check it out. 

 

When he arrived at the bridge, there were several men standing around a white van, the three of the men seemed to be trying to sell something to the fourth, a black man. At first Peter thought he’d just stumbled on a drug deal, then he saw the weapons; the same ones from the other night. Two of the sellers were suggesting a whole bunch of weapons to the guy who didn’t look particularly interested in something that violent. The third, older man was standing a bit away, watching everything go down. He had something weird strapped to his back but Peter didn’t get to check it out because at that moment, a phone went off behind him.

 

The sellers immediately jumped on their customer, accusing him of working for the cops and then pulling a gun on him. Before Peter even realised what he was doing, he told them to shoot him instead. Unfortunately for him, they liked his suggestion. He dodged bullets, but managed to get briefly whammied by one of their other weapons. As he woke back up, they were driving away from the scene, but he managed to chase after them.

 

He ran over roofs and through yards to try and catch up to them. He almost managed it, and was mid-jump onto the top of the van when something grabbed his shoulders and was lifting him high into the air. He was rising at an alarming rate and he tried to fight whoever had grabbed him, but it was useless. He felt the parachute in his suit deploy, but in the same moment, the guy dropped him. 

 

He hurtled quickly through the air, getting tangled in the fabric. He felt himself smack into a hard surface, getting briefly disoriented from the probable concussion, but it didn’t last long; he quickly realised he was submerged in water and sinking fast. In his panic, he let out the remaining air in his lungs, which quickly made way for a new panic as he realised he couldn’t breathe. He tried desperately to fight his way to the surface, but he couldn’t make sense of anything and was very quickly running out of energy. His lungs were burning and he eventually inhaled a bunch of water. He felt himself getting weaker and for a fleeting moment he wondered if anyone would come to his funeral, if they even found his body, but the thought was gone as quickly as it came and he lost consciousness. 

 

. . . . .

 

Tony Stark wasn’t stupid. He’d made the agreement with Spider-Man to hide his identity, knowing full well he was going to use the suit to snoop when he got the chance. And that had been the plan, but life got in the way. He deliberately hadn’t wanted to look for the first few weeks, wanting instead for the suit to accumulate data. But then Rhodey had been paralysed. And Siberia happened. And then he was trying to fix the Accords, and he just, sort of… forgot. 

 

He still kept an eye on the headlines though and Spider-Man had definitely not warranted anything more than fluff pieces and so he figured that the kid was enough of an adult (barely, but still) that he could do without the supervision for the time being. Then there was the ATM robbery. He knew he should check in at some point, but he had date night with Pepper the next night - the first since they’d gotten back together - and he wanted everything to go perfectly; surely it could wait for 48 hours? He’d later regret thinking that.

 

Dinner had been really great. He’d missed Pepper so much, especially with how crazy things had been the last few months; he’d forgotten how much her presence alone could ground him. They were cuddled together on their bed, only half watching the movie playing on the tv, when the alert went off on his phone.

“Fri? What do we got?”   
“Spider-Man exceeded maximum altitude. Parachute deployed but vitals are erratic and he appears to be falling towards the East River.” Crap, he knew he’d better help. 

He gave Pepper a quick peck, “I gotta go check on the kid, I’ll be right back.”   
She gave him a soft smile, “You’d better be.”

 

Initially Tony wasn’t terribly worried. He knew the kid was very self sufficient, but he figured he should check in. He got a bit more worried when he reached the river and there was no sign of Spider-Man anywhere. He got legitimately worried when he found him unconscious on the bottom of the river, slightly tangled in the parachute. But when he pulled him up to the riverbank and ripped off the mask so he could breathe; Tony’s heart sank through his stomach.

 

That face was so young. No way he could be any older than 16. Worse still? The kid wasn’t breathing. Friday read his vitals and didn’t find a pulse, so Tony started compressions. He felt numb with shock. Angry at himself for getting so caught up in the stuff with Rogers that he didn’t realise Spider-Man was clearly a teenager. Eventually, the boy coughed up some of the water in his lungs. He was still in a bad way, but he was breathing and that was enough. Tony eased the mask back over the boys head to protect his identity, noting the bleeding wound on his hairline, and picked him up to take him back to the Tower. 

He called Pepper. “Medbay. Get Cho.” She could hear the barely concealed panic in his voice and didn’t question him.

 

Tony tried not to panic about the limp, unresponsive boy in his arms, but honestly, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was in way over his head. Pepper, bless her heart, had opened the door for the balcony of the MedBay, so he flew straight in. Cho had been in one of the labs in the lower part of the tower, so she was already there when Tony arrived. He laid the boy down on the nearest bed and together he and the doctor cut the suit off of him. 

“Tony…” Pepper said in horror when she saw how young the unconscious boy was.    
“I didn’t know.” He struggled to get the words out, but the message was clear. 

 

Tony’s horror only deepened when he saw that despite the obvious muscle, the boy was also way too thin. And in desperate need of a shower. Had he not been on the verge of a panic attack, he would’ve understood what that meant much sooner.

Finally, after half an hour, the boy was stable and on a ventilator to help him breathe. He also had several IVs, to hydrate him, and to prevent any illnesses from the dirty river water. Cho had also insisted on an NG tube because he was seriously malnourished. 

 

Finally, as Cho went to leave the MedBay, Tony succumbed to the panic that had been building for the last hour. He felt his breathing grow erratic, his heartbeat pounding in his head, his knees ached as he fell to the floor but he was powerless to stop it. He felt someone wrap gentle arms around him, but he was in too deep and powerless to stop it. He felt a pricking in his upper right arm, and soft fingers running through his hair before he blacked out.

 

. . . . .

 

Cho had only given him a mild sedative, so it was a just a few hours later that he woke up to the soft beeping of a heart monitor, the hard plastic of an oxygen mask on his face. Pepper, who was reading in the chair next to him, looked up when she heard him stir.    
“Hey,” she said, gently pushing his hair from his forehead, “you’re okay.”

He pulled off the mask, “The kid?”   
“Doing well. He has some sort of healing factor, the wound on his head is as good as new. Cho wants to get some more nutrients into him and just keep an eye out for secondary drowning. She’s gonna wake him up in the morning. You really didn’t know he was this young?”

“No. He said he was in college. I was going to look into him further, but then Siberia…” his voice wandered off. A look of understanding crossed Pepper’s face.   
“Okay. Well he’s going to make a full recovery, so why don’t you start thinking of how you can make things right.”

 

While he waited for the boy to wake, he logged into the suit to see what he could find out. Turns out it was very little. FRIDAY couldn’t pinpoint an exact age because of his enhancements - the age range she offered was from 13 to 17 so it wasn’t very helpful. He did think he’d maybe worked out the boy’s name. He’d been a lot smarter than Tony would’ve given him credit for, he revealed very little at all. But more than once, the surveillance in the suit had recorded him saying “come on Peter” like he was hyping himself up. So Tony suspected the boy’s name was Peter. He did try searching the NYPD database for missing teens named Peter, but none came up that met his Peter’s description.

 

To keep him out for a while, Cho had used some of the sedatives she’d normally reserve for someone like Cap. Tony thought it was a bit drastic, but apparently Peter’s metabolism was on par, if not even faster, with Steve’s. Shortly after sunrise, they were starting to get ready to wake him up. They removed the NG tube and ventilator, but kept the other IVs in. They also put soft restraints around his wrists and ankles because they didn’t know how he’d respond when he woke up.

 

It wasn’t until just before 9am that Peter started to stir. He could feel small puffs of air tickling his nostrils. There was also the unmistakable smells and sounds of a hospital, he just couldn’t remember how he got there. Eyes still closed, he tried to sit up but couldn’t; he was tied to the bed. He was moments from freaking out when he felt a steady hand on his chest. 

“Kid? You’re okay. It’s me, Iron Man. You’re at Stark Tower, and you’re safe.” He definitely knew that voice. He knew it was a safe voice. 

It took a few minutes, but he finally managed to pry open his eyes, “Mr Stark?”   
The man chuckled, “Yeah kid. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “how’re you feeling?”   
Peter pondered the question for a moment, “hmm, tired. Sore. What hap-” his voice cut out mid sentence. That was the moment he was alert enough to realise he wasn’t wearing his mask. He turned to look at Tony in horror. 

The man’s face showed a strange mix of amusement and annoyance, “Yeah. Unless you’re even more of a prodigy than I was, I’m guessing you’re not actually in college?” Peter shook his head sheepishly. “So how old are you? Peter. That’s your name, right?”

Peter gulped, “y-yeah. I’m Peter. I turned 15 in May. I’m sorry, I really didn’t wanna lie to you Mr Stark, I swear. It’s just if people know who I am then they’ll ask questions and then I’ll be in so much trouble and I can’t stop being Spider-Man! I can’t!”

 

Peter had quickly spiralled into a panic and Tony was quick to grasp one of his hands. 

“Hey, Pete, you gotta breathe for me.” The boy seemed somewhat responsive to his words, so he kept talking. “If anyone can understand the need to help people, it’s me. I just wanna help you but you can wait til you’re ready to tell me your story. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I promise I just want to help.” 

 

Eventually the boy calmed down, but the panic had completely worn him out. Tony held his hand with one of his own, then used the other to stroke his hair. “It’s ok, go to sleep. We can talk later.”

 

When Pepper walked in a half hour later, Peter was asleep in the bed and Tony was asleep in his chair next to him, still holding the boy’s hand.

 

Turned out that Peter was worse for wear. He was severely dehydrated and underfed, and had developed some kind of cold either from being on the streets for so long, or from being exposed to all kinds of germs in the river water. Even for his enhanced body, he seemed to have hit a wall and kind of crashed; he spent almost a week in the MedBay recovering and rebuilding his strength, most of that time was spent sleeping. 

 

Tony spent as much time as he could with Peter, trying his best to get answers out of him, but also because he felt some kind of responsibility towards the kid - even Pepper was in there a lot; they’d both quickly become attached to the charming young boy. Peter wasn’t keen on talking though. It wasn’t until the night after he’d left the MedBay they finally got the full story from the boy. He’d gotten the all clear from Cho to leave, but he still wasn’t back to full strength, so Tony had insisted that he stay in one of the spare rooms for at least a few more nights. 

 

Peter really liked Tony and Pepper, they were way more normal than he ever expected and he was very comfortable around them, especially Tony. He didn’t think he’d ever slept in a bed as comfortable as the one Tony gave him in the tower. That, of course, was his undoing. It’d been ages since Peter had had a nightmare: he hadn’t been comfortable enough, or slept long enough, in almost a year. 

 

. . . . .

 

He dreamed of May hating him, of Ben dying in his arms, and of falling and then drowning. When he woke up screaming, Tony was there. 

 

Tony was puttering away in his lab when FRIDAY alerted him that Peter’s heart rate was elevated and that he appeared to be having a nightmare. He ran up to the boy’s room to see him tossing and turning in the bad. He was about to wake him up when the boy started screaming and startled himself awake. Peter was still hyperventilating, nearing a panic attack, so Tony did the only thing he could think of - he pulled the boy into a tight hug, whispering reassurances in his ear to help him calm down. 

 

When he looked up, Pepper was standing next to the bed, obviously having woken up to Peter screaming. Eventually the boy calmed down enough to pull away - Tony still gripped him by his upper arms, holding him at arm's length. Peter didn’t even realise that he was crying until Pepper reached up and wiped tears off his cheeks.    
“You okay, kid?” Tony asked. The boy sniffled and nodded, not trusting his voice. “You wanna talk about it?”   
“No.”   
“You wanna try going back to sleep?”   
“No.” Tony sighed   
“Okay. Well I’m gonna go tinker in my lab, try and fix up your suit. Wanna join me?”

“I-yeah. That’d be cool.” Peter felt a surge of excitement, remembering how much he used to love stuff like this, before everything happened. 

 

Tony was glad he was able to get something more from Peter, he’d been quite worried. Pepper smiled at them as they walked out of the room, giving Tony a quick kiss before she returned to bed.

 

Mr Stark’s lab was like something out of every nerdy kids wildest dreams, and Peter seriously struggled to contain his giddiness. He sat down at the bench and listened to Mr Stark talk through the fixes and upgrades he had planned for the Spider-Man suit. Peter really did want to listen, but despite his upset from the nightmare earlier, he was exhausted, and soon fell asleep with his head on the bench. Tony soon noticed that he boy had fallen asleep, so he carried him over to the couch, sitting down himself and resting Peter’s head in his lap. He laid a blanket over them both and responded to emails on his phone while the boy slept.

 

Peter woke up briefly a few hours later, his head was resting on someone’s lap, their arm across his torso, he looked up and saw that it was Mr Stark who was now sleeping himself. As he fell back asleep he felt, for the first time in a long time, completely safe. 

 

What neither of them knew until months later, was that Pepper had been down there to check on them and when she found them both asleep, she’d snapped a photo on her phone.

 

. . . . .

 

Something shifted after that. Peter had always intended to leave as soon as he was well enough, not wanting to overstay his welcome. But as he spent day after day in the lab with Mr Stark, and evenings eating dinner and occasionally watching movies with him and Pepper, he felt himself getting attached and he was helpless to stop it. He figured Mr Stark would eventually ask him to leave, once he’d overstayed his welcome, but that day never came, and he never questioned it. 

 

After the business with the nightmare, Tony didn’t ask Peter any serious questions. They tinkered away in the lab everyday, chatting about the work or about random movies and tv shows, occasionally even just listening to music. 

 

After two weeks, Peter was finally ready to talk, “Mr Stark?”

Tony looked up from his work and saw that the boy looked nervous. “Yeah kid?”

“I need to tell you something.” Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest. The last thing he wanted was to be rejected again, but he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.

“Sounds serious,” Tony joked, but then he saw the sheer terror in Peter’s eyes, “hey, you can tell me anything but don’t feel like you have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“No, I need to get it off my chest,” Peter took a deep breath, “I’m gay.”   
Tony could’ve laughed with relief. With the way the boy was acting, he thought something was seriously wrong. “Sometimes I forget that not every aspect of my personal life is public knowledge. Kid, you know I’m bi, right?”

Peter was stunned. “You are?”

Tony chuckled “Yeah, I mean my dad wasn’t too happy with my quote unquote choices so the stories are well hidden, but they’re definitely out there.” Tony walked over to the teen and wrapped him in a hug, which Peter returned eagerly. As they stood there, Tony came to a sinking realisation, “This-” he started awkwardly, “this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with you living on the streets, would it Pete?” his heart broke when he felt the boy nodding against his chest. 

 

That afternoon, Peter told Tony everything. His whole, heartbreaking story. Tony knew right then and there that there was no way in hell he’d ever let that boy leave his home. When Peter was done telling Tony everything, the man had to ask him an important question: “Pete, is it okay if I tell Pepper everything you’ve told me? I just don’t like keeping secrets from her if I can help it.”

Peter smiled, “honestly Mr Stark, I just assumed you would, but I don’t mind, I trust Pepper almost as much as you.”   
“Ok, then I have to insist that you call me Tony. We’re there, kid. Also you calling me Mr Stark makes me feel old.”

 

Pepper didn’t say anything to Peter, but the next time she saw him she wrapped him up in a big hug that was kind of the best hug he’d ever gotten, and 24 hours later she’d bought him a whole assortment of new clothes and some nerdy decorations for his room.  

 

. . . . .

 

Things were much more comfortable after that, Peter felt much more peaceful. When he asked Mr Stark if he could start patrolling as Spider-Man again, the man told him it was more than okay, but he had to wait a few days, the FBI were planning a bust on those weapons dealers that upcoming Friday. In the meantime, Peter was introduced to Happy as himself. The man had given Tony a deeply judgemental look at that and had said little else; but he was considerably less gruff with Peter after that.

 

The night after the FBI bust, on the Staten Island Ferry apparently, Tony and Peter watched the news break. Peter noted with a hint of concern that the older guy he’d seen under the bridge that night wasn’t included among the list of men who’d been arrested, but Tony assured him they’d get him eventually. The night after that he went out on patrol again and it was such a relief. 

 

In the days that followed, Tony talked to Peter about the possibility of returning to school. Peter was confused initially, “I can’t afford to feed myself, let alone go to school, Mr Stark.”

Tony laughed, “Kid, I’m one of the richest men on the planet, you really think I’m letting you go back to the streets? I’ll pay for you to go to whatever school you want.”   
“Oh,” said Peter, “yeah, I didn’t think of that. Can I go back to my old school? In Queens?”

“Of course! I’ll give them a call on Monday. Gimme enough time and you’ll be back with your friends. I’ll vouch for your smarts too, so you don’t have to go back to being a lowly freshman.”

 

Tony followed through on that promise and by Wednesday, Peter was all set to start back at school the following Monday. Peter had spoken to Principal Morita on the phone and the man was glad to see Peter was doing well after seemingly dropping off the face of the Earth. He told Peter he’d probably have to do some make up tests for what he’d already missed that year, but he was happy to accept him as a sophomore.

 

It had been a crazy few weeks at Stark Tower. Aside from all the craziness with Peter, Mr Stark was moving all of the Avengers stuff to the compound upstate so it wasn’t taking up space in the tower; Happy was in charge of that and it was stressing him out. Pepper was also away for the week, dealing with some Stark Industries stuff in California. And Tony had more meetings in Washington coming up that Friday, they were really close to resolving the issues with the accords, he was just trying to work on a pardon for Captain America and the other Avengers.

 

After some careful deliberations they decided Peter was going to go and visit Ned on Friday night. Peter really missed his best friend, and he didn’t want to come into school on Monday without at least one person on his side. Plus, he felt like he owed Ned an explanation; he wasn’t sure about the Spider-Man part, but definitely the rest of it. He and Tony agreed he wouldn’t take the suit regardless, and he’d take the subway to Queens, the less conspicuous the better; though Peter thought Tony didn’t need to know that he was wearing his web shooters. 

 

Peter was supposed to go over shortly after school let out, Tony had left for DC that morning, but he got distracted watching The Office, so he left around 6pm, waving goodbye to Happy on his way out. 

 

By the time he made it to the Leed’s apartment, it was near dark. He knocked on the door and Ned’s mom answered. 

“Peter?” She gasped, and before he could respond, she wrapped him up in a very tight hug, “we’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been, boy?”

Peter didn’t know how to answer that to her, so he just said, “May and Ben kicked me out, I’ve been… around.”

“Why didn’t you come to us, don’t you know we love you?”

“I-I know you have so many mouths to feed. I didn’t want-”

“You stop right there, you know we would’ve made things work for you. How about now, where are you living?”

“With a friend. I’m safe, I promise. I’m actually coming back to school next week.” Before she could get too excited and ask a heap more questions, he continued, “Is Ned around? I was hoping to catch up?”

“Oh of course honey! He’s actually at school tonight, he’s at the Homecoming dance.”

 

Peter didn’t have anything better to do that night, so he figured he might as well go and check out the dance. Too bad he never made it inside.

 

He was on the sidewalk, walking towards his school. He could see all the students excitedly milling around and heading inside and he couldn’t help but smile; he was excited to finally be getting back into that normality. He was about ready to cross the road when he saw it. First he saw Liz Allen, who he’d always gotten along with, getting out of her car with her date, a junior boy he only kind of recognised, he thought Liz looked lovely. Then she leaned into the front of the car to talk to the driver, and Peter’s eyes followed. And his stomach dropped. It was the man from under the bridge. 

 

Peter watched as the man drove off and without even realising it, he started following him. He was really regretting not having his Spider-Man suit, but he still had his web shooters, so he fastened his hoodie around as much of his face as he could so he could swing around without exposing his identity. He followed the man for five minutes until he pulled up outside a warehouse in a quiet part of Brooklyn. Peter waited a few minutes for the man to go inside. He half thought that maybe now would be the time to call Mr Stark, but one part of him still had a bruised ego from the last time he faced these weapons guys, and the other part of him felt like he seriously owed Mr Stark and that busting this guy would be a good way to start repaying the favour. 

 

That all went to shit as soon as he walked inside. The man, Liz’s dad, hadn’t known who the hell Peter was at first, thought he was just some random kid, but then Peter webbed up his hands and the man’s face turned dark. He started ranting and raving about how rich people like Tony Stark couldn’t understand the middle class struggle, but Peter wouldn’t understand either coz he’s just a kid (if he weren’t so stressed he’d laugh at the irony). What he didn’t notice until it was too late, however, was that the guy was playing with something on his wrist. 

 

Peter barely had a chance to brace himself when the concrete roof came crashing down over his head. He didn’t know how long he blacked out for, but when he came to, his head was pounding and he was pinned under several tonnes of concrete. His instinct was to scream for help, and he did, but he quickly realised no one knew where he was. No one was coming to help him, he had to help himself. Slowly, painfully, he managed to lift the rubble off himself for long enough to crawl out. He went to grab his phone from his pocket but realised it wasn’t there, it was trapped under the rubble.

 

His body aching, he slowly hobbled outside. He was seriously feeling worse for wear and was dreading having to make his way back to Manhattan, but that flew out of his mind as soon as he got outside. The vulture guy, Liz’s dad he reminded himself, was perched on a nearby billboard waiting for something. Peter was about to say something when he saw it, a plane taking off over Manhattan, and Peter knew where the plane was coming from. With a sinking feeling, the pieces fell into place and he knew his mission was far from over, so he webbed himself to the back of the vulture’s wings as the man took off.

 

Getting the plane to crash on Coney Island had taken almost all of Peter’s remaining strength, but the fight wasn’t over just yet. He rolled for forever along the beach, each thud adding more pain to his aching body. When he finally stopped, he slowly got to his feet, trying to assess the damage both to himself and to the plane. There was wreckage scattered all across the beach, much of it on flames, and his vision was slightly blurred, but he could see that his clothes were mostly in tatters and he was bleeding all over. He was painfully aware of nearly every bone in his body. He couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears, and so he only had a moments warning before the vulture slammed into him again. 

 

Once again he thudded against the ground repeatedly as he flew backwards. He slowly stood again and he thought the guy might’ve been talking to him, but between the mask and the pounding in his head, he couldn’t tell. He only just managed to dodge when the guy came after him yet again, and was completely helpless to stop himself from being lifted into the air. 

 

He was punched in the face repeatedly and after that things were a bit of a blur. He thinks he was slammed into the ground but he couldn’t be sure. What he was aware of though, was when he was finally dropped to the ground. His consciousness was fading in and out but despite himself he looked up again and saw that the guy’s wings were an absolute mess, ready to explode at any moment. He moved to try and pull him to the ground but it was too late, the wings exploded. The force of the explosion knocked him backwards, he felt bits of shrapnel hitting him all over. Despite everything, he managed one last surge of adrenaline to pull the vulture guy out of the wreckage, and web him up to one of the crates, away from the flames.

 

Peters head hurt. Peters everything hurt. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew Mr Stark would help him, so he kept walking.

 

. . . . .

 

There was fire. It was pretty.

 

Fire bad.

 

Where is he going?

 

He knew he was doing something important, he just couldn’t remember it.

 

He was so tired.

 

Fire bad.

 

Water gets rid of fire. 

 

It’s so hot. Water will cool him down.

 

Why was he on the ground?

 

Why is there sand?

 

The water looks so pretty, why is it so far?

 

He’s so tired.

 

Maybe he can try for the water again after a nap.

 

. . . . .

 

Happy had been having a great night, getting all the stuff ready on the plane; he was glad Tony was finally trusting him with more responsibilities. Then he saw as the plane went down.

 

To his credit, he was down there with a cleanup crew within 15 minutes. By the time he arrived, most of the fires were piles of smoldering embers.

 

It didn’t take him long to find Toomes. The man was semi-conscious, tied up to one of the larger crates on the edge of the mess. Happy was confused at first, but then when he saw what the man was tied up with, his blood ran cold. He yanked his phone out of his pocket: “C’mon Peter. Pick up! Pick up! Pick up!” but the phone rang out, doing nothing to ease his nerves.

“The kid? He okay?” Happy heard the voice behind him and saw that the criminal had woken up.   
“You’ve seen him? Where is he?” Happy couldn’t hide the panic.

“No I was out but- he was- I was rough on him. He looked bad. Can’t have gone far.”

Happy took the comments on board but couldn’t hold back his anger. He punched the man, knocking him out, before turning to search for Peter. 

 

As he walked he called some of his crew, demanding a medevac to prepare and for someone to get Helen Cho to Avengers Tower. As he approached the far end of the beach, he spotted it. It could’ve been mistaken for a piece of debris from a distance, but as he got closer he could see that the dark lump was in fact a dying teenager. 

 

The boy was deeply unconscious, one of his eyes swollen shut, the other softly closed. He was a mess of cuts and bruises, his clothes barely held together fibres and he had a large piece of metal sticking into his abdomen, as well as several smaller ones in his limbs and one unfortunately in his skull. Happy dropped to his knees beside the boy and checked his pulse. It was weak. Very week. He needed to get to a doctor ASAP. 

 

Happy heard a scream behind him and turned to see that several of the cleanup workers had reached them. One woman was reaching for her phone to call 911, “Don’t!” he yelled, “he’s enhanced. He can’t go to the hospital. We’ve already got someone on the way to take him to Avengers Tower.” He turned back and realised in horror that in the few seconds he’d taken his attention away from Peter, the boy had stopped breathing.

 

Happy bent back down and rolled the boy onto his back, attempting to clear his airway. When that didn’t make a difference, he leaned over him and starting giving mouth to mouth. He pounded on his chest then breathed into his mouth, over and over again. Someone took over the compressions for him, so he focussed on the breathing. He tried not to focus on the fact that he could taste the blood transferring from the boys lips to his own. 

 

He didn’t know how long he was breathing for Peter when someone tapped him on the shoulder; it was the medical team. They pushed Happy away with slight force so they could get working on Peter. Happy tried to listen to what they were saying, but most of the medical jargon was beyond him. 

 

He winced as he saw them forcing a tube down the boys throat, attaching an oxygen bag to the end, one of them pumping it steadily. He felt a surge of protectiveness when one of them told him they had to insert a chest tube: there was too much fluid in his lungs, most of his ribs were crushed or broken, it was the main reason he couldn’t breathe and they needed to relieve the pressure. Happy felt faint when he saw the blood gushing out of the tube in Peters chest, and even though he seemed to be breathing easier as a result, Happy couldn’t calm down. One of the EMTs gave Happy an oxygen mask to try and calm his breathing down while the others continued to work on Peter. 

 

Soon enough, they decided Peter was stable enough to be transported to the tower. Well, not very stable at all, but there wasn’t anything else they could do for him on the beach. There was some concerns about head injuries and internal bleeding, and it was just silently understood that there was a very good chance Peter wouldn’t survive the night. Happy didn’t leave his side the whole way. He held his limp hand and prayed silently while the other people continued to treat Peter. 

 

Cho was thankfully already there when they got to the tower, and soon enough their worst fears were confirmed; Peters injuries were almost certainly catastrophic. Some of the other doctors prepped him for emergency surgery and Cho rounded on Happy.

“What the hell happened to him?” Happy was shocked at how much even she seemed to care for Peter. 

“Tony’s uh- the plane got hijacked. Kid took it down with a fight.” Her face turned very serious. 

“Happy, have you called Tony or Pepper yet?”

“No, I was busy trying to keep the kid alive!” He snapped.

“Okay,” she grasped his hand gently, “it’s my turn now. Let me take care of him. You need to call Tony.” 

Happy nodded, taking a deep breath and bracing himself for things to get so much worse. 

 

. . . . .

 

For once in his life, Tony was actually respecting the integrity of the meeting he was in. They were so close to reaching a settlement for the other avengers to be pardoned and not only was his phone on silent for once, but it wasn’t even in his hand; it was sitting face down on the table in front of him. Okay, so he wasn’t paying absolute attention, part of him was daydreaming about what he was going to do with Pete over the weekend; living it up before the boy started school on Monday. He was definitely leaning towards a movie marathon, he just couldn’t decide whether to let the kid pick all of his favourites, or to give him an education in the classics. 

 

The agreement was all but ready. They still needed to work out a couple of finer details but they were mere hours away from signing on the dotted line. Cap and the others would be home and pardoned within the week. One of the European delegates was talking when Tony heard his phone vibrate, he smiled at her apologetically before checking it. He could’ve rolled his eyes, it was Happy calling, probably just to tell him that the move had been a success; he ignored it and set his phone back down. 

 

But then his phone rang a second time. 

 

And when he ignored that, a third time.  That made him nervous. Even Happy knew better than to keep calling if he didn’t answer, unless it’s an emergency.

 

“Sorry, I’m gonna have to take this.”

“That’s fine Mr Stark, we’ll wait.” the speaker said politely and Tony moved to the back of the room to answer his phone

 

“Hap? What’s going on?” He heard a deep breath on the other side of the phone.

“One of those weapons dealers hijacked the plane.” Happy sounded nervous. 

“Okay well get it back,” He responded tersely, “did that really require four phone calls? I’m in an important meeting.”

“Yeah, that’s all sorted, we got the guy.”

“Okaaay,” he said slowly, “what am I missing here Happy?”

“The kid took it down.” Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I- what?”

“I don’t know how he knew about it but Peter found the guy, fought him, and crash landed the plane on Coney Island.” it was a lot to take in. 

“Shit. Well I can’t say I’m not grateful. Is he okay?” there was silence on the end of the line and Tony’s panic increased exponentially, “Happy. Tell me he’s okay.”

“Helen’s got him in surgery but he’s in a bad way. I think you need to get back to the Tower.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tony knew that the fact that they hadn’t even had time to get him to the vastly superior medical facilities at the Compound spoke to just how dire the situation was. But all he could think about was Peter.

“I’m on my way.” he hung up the phone. 

 

Tony didn’t even realise that he was having a panic attack until he fell to the ground, weak from the lack of oxygen. A lot of people came rushing towards him, crowding him and making the panic worse, until member shooed them away and kneeled in front of him, helping him calm down. He wasn’t sure who they were, but he’d be sure to send them a token of appreciation later. 

“What the hell was that, Stark?!” Some said gruffly as he got back to his feet. He ignored them.

“Looks great everyone. Send me what I need to sign. I gotta go. Family emergency.” and he walked out the door, straight to his Iron Man suit. 

 

As he flew, he noted an update for the next Iron Man suit; 2 hours was far too long to get from DC to New York.

 

Tony was so worked up by the time he arrived that Happy had to physically restrain him from entering the operating room. 

 

Once he calmed down a bit, he asked Happy what had happened. Happy, unfortunately, didn’t know much; Peter had been unconscious when he found him and Helen hadn’t had a chance to update them on his condition. Tony felt broken. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He asked Happy to call Pepper and let her know, which he walked off to do. When Happy returned with news that she was on her way, he brought Tony a cup of coffee which he accepted gratefully. He didn’t realise until right before he passed out that Happy had slipped a sedative into the drink.

 

. . . . .

 

When Tony woke up hours later, he was lying on the sofa in the little waiting room, his head was resting on Pepper’s lap. 

 

A few hours later, Helen finally came out to join them, she had changed out of her scrubs but otherwise looked a mess. Tony and Pepper both went to stand, but she insisted that they stay seated which just made them more nervous.

 

He’d pulled through. Just. He’d lost a lot of blood. A lot. Too much, in fact. Had he not been enhanced, it would’ve killed him. That seemed to be a common theme with his injuries. She’d had to remove his spleen. And part of his liver. His kidneys had barely survived the trauma. But the biggest concern was his brain. There was some bruising that had already healed somewhat, but his brain activity was low and they didn’t know what his brain function would be like when he woke up. 

 

Even hearing all of that didn’t prepare Tony for seeing Peter. He almost fell to his knees at the sight, but Happy caught him. There were tubes and monitors all over the boy, and there was barely any clear skin poking out between the bruises.

 

Tony didn’t leave Peter’s bedside for days, until Pepper forced him to shower, and even then he came right back. Steve had made it back to the tower at some point and had popped in to see Tony; the man couldn’t bring himself to speak, but cap just sat next to him silently for a while. 

 

A week after the accident, on the Sunday, they finally took Peter off the ventilator because he could breathe for himself. Most of his injuries had healed, thanks to his enhanced healing, but he still had a slightly broken femur. The biggest concern was that he still hadn’t woken up. His brain activity had increased and the bruising had mostly disappeared, but they had no idea how his enhanced healing would treat brain damage.

 

He woke a few times over the next few days, Tony was left panicking every time because he was completely unresponsive - just blinking, staring at nothing until he fell asleep again, but Cho assured him this was normal. 

 

. . . . .

 

Peters head felt really stuffy. There was a dull ache throughout his entire body and he felt more tired than he had in his entire life, despite clearly only just having woken up. Oh, was he awake? He’d only just realised that his eyes weren’t actually open. He could feel something tickling his nostrils and realised quickly that it was an oxygen cannula. Okay? So he was pretty sure he was in hospital but he had no idea why. 

 

He could tell there was someone sitting next to him and he could hear a male voice but couldn’t remember who they were, just that they were someone important. Uncle Ben? No, that didn’t sound right, but he wasn’t sure why. He slowly pried open his eyes to check; it was Tony Stark. Oh yeah, now he remembered. 

 

“You’re okay Pete. Go back to sleep.” Tony said tiredly, gently brushing Peters hair off his forehead with his fingers. Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and the hand in his hair stopped moving. “Peter, can you hear me?” There was a sense of urgency in the voice. Peter’s mouth felt like cotton so he didn’t trust his voice, but he nodded. The man teared up instantly and kissed Peter’s forehead, muttering things about how relieved he was. Dr Cho came in to check on him but soon after he was falling asleep again.

 

. . . . .

 

Peter slept a lot those first couple of days, still not having much energy. To Tony’s amusement though, he perked up a lot when Captain America came in bringing him flowers and wishing him a speedy recovery. He had to do a small amount of physical therapy, because he’d been in bed for so long and was a little stiff all over, but eventually he made a full recovery and walked into school three weeks after he was originally supposed to. He’d ended up getting in contact with Ned, too, so going to school again wasn’t so scary.

 

Tony, Pepper, and Peter settled into a new routine. It hadn’t taken much convincing for them to let him out as Spider-Man again, but he was under strict instructions to actually call for help if he got in over his head, and would be punished if he didn’t. 

 

Pepper could see how attached Tony and Peter were to each other, if she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought Peter was actually Tony’s son. Tony had transitioned into dad-mode easily. He was very invested in Peter’s life; when he first met Ned and the boy almost fainted out of excitement, Ned was added to his small list of favourite people.

 

. . . . .

 

One night, not long before Christmas, Pepper suggested that Tony should look into adoption and the man freaked out. Not because he didn’t want to. No, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more in the world. He was just scared. He knew that Peter had a lot of baggage in his past and had been hurt by the people who were supposed to love him the most; he didn’t want to hurt him further.

 

Pepper Potts was not easily deterred. 

 

She asked Peter one day, when she knew Tony wouldn’t be home for hours -  she may or may not have intentionally scheduled him that way. Peter was very flustered by the question.

“I- That’d be cool, Pepper, really. But Tony doesn’t want that. And besides, I know you guys wanna have your own kids, they’d be the rightful heir to SI and everything else. I’m okay with how things are Pep, I promise.” That was all the confirmation she needed to put the rest of the plan in motion.

 

. . . . .

 

Peter had full access to Tony’s personal lab and, both because Tony was lazy and Peter was eager, was often sent down there to grab bits and pieces that Tony had left behind. That was where he was now but he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be getting because he’d found something else that had completely shaken him. Adoption papers. Partially filled out with his and Tony’s info. 

“FRIDAY? What is this?” he hated how shaky his voice sounded.   
“I suggest you talk to Mr Stark, Peter.” Damn. Exactly the conversation he was hoping to avoid.

 

He lost track of the time, standing in the lab, numbly staring at the papers in his hands. He was in there so long that eventually Tony came looking for him. He didn’t realise he had tears in his eyes until Tony approached him.   
“Kid? Are you okay?” Peter sniffled loudly. “What’s that?” Tony asked, spotting the papers still in the boys’ hands.

“I- Oh my god, Tony I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I promise. I was looking for the thing and I just saw these and I just couldn’t think.” Not fully satisfied with the answer, Tony took a peek at the papers, one arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulders comfortingly. His eyes widened when he saw what the papers were; he was going to kill Pepper.

“Oh, Pete, I don’t-” Peter interrupted him.

“I never thought you’d be interested so I didn’t wanna bring it up and you’ve already done so much for me and I didn’t wanna seem ungrateful asking for more but then Pepper was asking about adoption the other day and now I found this and- do you really want me to be in your family?” The boy was so hopeful and earnest that it almost brought Tony to tears.    
“Kid, you’re pretty much already family. Now I think Pepper has been messing around with us both,” Peter’s face fell almost comically and Tony was quick to change his train of thought, “but only because I was too chicken to bring it up. Because I was scared that you didn’t want this as much as I do. Looks like maybe she was doing us a favour? I think we’re both as oblivious as each other.” Peter chuckled wetly. “Okay, just so we’re really sure we’re on the same page: I want to legally adopt you, do you want me to adopt you?” Peter laughed and gave Tony a proper hug.   
“Yeah, I want you to adopt me.” Tony felt himself tearing up.

“Remind me to get Pepper whatever she wants for Christmas. C’mon, I think we’ve earned a movie night. We can worry about everything else in the morning.”

 

. . . . .

 

Tony being who he was, the adoption was processed quickly and quietly. Though he wasn’t interested in it happening, Peter did wonder if he’d hear from May at all, since she was technically still his legal guardian. She didn’t contest the adoption, which made things considerably easier, but did send along a short letter apologising for abandoning Peter, but not for her beliefs - which hadn’t changed - and wished him a good life. Tony was annoyed at her nerve but Peter was surprised at how little the letter affected him; he didn’t need her anymore, he had Pepper and Happy and, most importantly, Tony.

 

And their little family flourished from there. Especially when Tony surprised them all by proposing to Pepper at Christmas: he’d run it past Peter first and the boy scoffed at him, asking why he felt the need when she was practically already his mom. Pepper claimed she was more excited to be Peter’s mom than she was to marry Tony, which Peter loved; Tony was only mildly annoyed when they teamed up against him. 

 

Peter was also flourishing as Spider-Man, especially now that he had Stark Tech and Iron Man himself on his side. He tended to patrol a wider radius these days, but still had a definite preference for Queens. Tony tried to let Peter do his own thing as much as possible on patrols, but deep down he was well and truly a concerned parent. It wasn’t exactly like Peter didn’t give him cause for concern either. Try as he might, the boy was definitely a little reckless when it came to self preservation, and came home with broken bones far too often. 

 

. . . . .

 

One night in late February, Peter’s AI alerted him that Peter had sustained a head injury while on patrol and was currently unconscious. By the time Tony got there 10 minutes later (he wasn’t panicked, not at all) his idiot son was awake but barely, and completely incoherent and sluggish; a nasty concussion FRIDAY had told him. He picked up Peter, the boy incredibly pliant in his arms, and carried him back to the tower. 

 

He took Peter straight to the medbay and patched up his, relatively minor, head wound, poking the boy semi-regularly to stop him from falling asleep. He then walked/half carried Peter to bed and put FRIDAY on concussion watch. He changed Peter out of the suit and into his pjs, and tucked him into bed with a kiss on the non-injured side of his head. As he walked out of the room, he heard Peter stir. 

“Good night, kid.” he said softly.

“‘Night, Dad.” the boy mumbled in response. 

 

Tony’s heart swelled more than he thought was humanly possible as he closed the door. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and Pepper questioned him about it when he joined her in bed. 

“What’s got you looking so happy?” She asked, amused.

He just kissed her in response. 

 

Yeah, life was good.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Note: I myself am catholic and know most catholics aren't THAT homophobic so no offence intended, it just worked to explain May's insane troll logic.
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments. 
> 
> Don't know when I'll be posting next but I have a couple of partially complete fics that I'll be getting back to now this monster is done.
> 
> My twitter is @everydaytomhol1 feel free to send prompts there.  
> My insta is @everydaytomholland but I don't really use it anymore, I'm easier to reach on Twitter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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